For A Little Knowledge
by Shadowfax56
Summary: Shadowfax56 - Sherlock shows up at Watson's therapist's office asking to be a patient. Seems he's run into a problem he has no resources to solve and he needs to consult an "idiot." Her. Then Mycroft makes his presence, and his concerns known. Romance/angst/humor JohnLock. Takes place three years after season 3.
1. For A Little Knowledge

**For A Little Knowledge**

Ella Thompson strolled into the empty waiting room of her office and picked up her mail, briskly sorting through the envelopes. "Good morning, Sarah. What's today like?"

The receptionist smiled, swung her chair around and consulted the computer screen. "Looks a bit light. There's a new one first thing, then you've a break until after lunch."

"That _is_ light. Summer slump I guess. Who's the new one?"

"Shezza Wiggens. He seemed desperate for an immediate appointment. A-won't-take-no-for-an-answer type. He actually said that before I had a chance to tell him we _did_ have an opening. But he wouldn't answer any of the initial questions. Said he'd only talk to you."

"That's fine. I like a mystery. When he arrives, just go ahead and show him in. If he's really desperate, he'll be early. Early in, early out is okay by me. I've got errands to run today."

She headed down the hall to her office, put out a new box of tissue and was checking her messages when there was a knock on the door. She glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes early. _My, my Mr. Wiggens._

The door opened and a tall, mustachioed man in dark glasses was ushered in. He thanked the receptionist for bringing him down and strode across the room with his hand extended. He was a surprise to her, but not a mystery.

"I know you . . ." She began before her voice trailed away. She wondered how he could think she wouldn't know him as she'd been working with his partner in crime-solving on and off for a few years now. In many ways, she felt she already knew him very well indeed.

He smiled at her and peeled the mustache off his lip, wrapping it in a handkerchief, then removed the dark glasses, and tucked both objects into an inside pocket of his coat. He tossed the coat on one chair and sat down on another, crossing his legs and steepling his hands beneath his chin.

She sat down as well.

"Mr. Holmes, I—"

"First," he said, interrupting her, "I'd like to apologize for my disguise. It was never meant to fool you. Only to get me in here without a lot of commotion. I'm a bit notorious these days."

She relaxed a little. "And the fake name?"

His eyes twinkled. "To get me in at all."

"Good. So you realize that I can't see you as a patient."

"I anticipated that you would feel that way. I do not see why that has to be."

"Mr. Holmes. You know why it does. Why play these games?"

"I never play games when I need someone's assistance. And I need yours most desperately, I assure you."

"I'm sorry. I'll be glad to find you an alternative. I'm sure there is someone who has an opening today. In fact I know one who does. She's excellent."

"I will see no other therapist."

She stared at him in frustration. "Why?"

"Because you are the therapist of my good friend, John Watson. My relationship with him is what I have come to speak with you about. You know him. It'll save time."

"Saving time does not interest me, Mr. Holmes. I have a process that will include boring questions you seem to feel you'll escape. You won't. Another therapist would be just as timely as I will be."

Sherlock shrugged. "I respect your professional process. Question away. I will see no one but you."

She folded her arms. "Does John know you're here?"

He looked taken aback. "No."

"So you don't have his permission?"

His face settled into a frown. "Certainly not."

She rose. "Then I can't see you Mr. Holmes. It would be unethical."

He didn't move. "All right then, call him. Just say I'm here asking for your help and would my having a session with you be all right. I would have preferred . . . but, no matter. Please go ahead"

She hesitated. "I'll have to call from the other room." She watched for a reaction to the idea that he wouldn't be able to listen to the call. There was none. He simply waved her out with a grand sweep of his hand.

She continued to hesitate. "There are no records in this room."

His smile faded. "I'm not here to break in to anything or to violate John's confidentiality with you in any way." He took his mobile out of his pocket and began checking something on it.

She still didn't move.

"Oh come on, Ms. Thompson," he said without looking up. "Whatever you and John have spoken about I can read on him anyway. I doubt there is anything secret from me in your files. Please. Go and call him. I'd like to get started."

She hesitated. "Even if he agrees, my own ethics—"

"Of course. Your responsibility to your patient is admirable. If you feel what I wish to discuss interferes with your obligation to J- anyone else, we will work through it or cease contact."

"You mean my responsibility to my o_ther_ patient. You are also to be a patient apparently. At least that's what you've been leading me to believe."

He dropped the hand holding the phone in his lap and eyed her with a bored annoyance. "When you agree. Which you have not done at this point." He returned to checking his phone . "You can have your assistant come in to watch me if you wish. I won't take offense."

She moved to her desk and called the receptionist. "Please step in here for a moment. I need to make a call from your desk."

"Yes, ma'am."

Ella returned and sat down in her chair, facing him again.

"Well?" He turned off his phone. "Did he agree?"

"He did. I have to say I'm extremely curious. Why on Earth are you here?"

He put away his phone, uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. "For a bit of knowledge."


	2. The Issue

**The Issue**

"Go on."

He stood and took a turn around the room his hands behind his back.

She made a mental note. _Like a prisoner to something._

Sherlock continued. "That's how it started, anyway. A little curiosity involving something about which I feel I have a great deal of intellectual awareness, but very little practical understanding."

"And what would that be?"

"Sex." He glanced at her. "Ahh, you already knew that."

"Mr. Holmes . . ." Her voice held a warning.

He held up a hand. "I see. It would violate your ethics if I can tell what you and John talk about simply by looking at your reaction. I will endeavor not to let that happen again."

She eyed him in annoyance. "Sit down, Mr. Holmes. I'll simply tell you that you are mistaken. I had no idea what you were going to say."

He rolled his eyes.

"Mr. Holmes, you are very close to making this impossible.

"My apologies." He took his seat. "I will keep to the boundaries you've set forward. Moving to the point. It has been surmised by my friends that I have little to no experience with physical intimacy. That supposition is correct. There have been only two people with whom I have considered an alliance of that type. One is The Woman. A master criminal I came up against during a case I was working for my brother. Sexuality was both her strength and her weapon. There were times during my battle with her that I realized a bit of practical knowledge about sex could have prepared me more effectively for the clashes in which we engaged."

She cocked her head. "In that case, I should think a professional would be the way to go."

Sherlock frowned. "If you mean a prostitute, I think not."

"I mean a surrogate. Therapists who have sex with their clients in an effort to help them with sexual issues. There are male and female surrogates and most use a team approach to insure no one is exploited. I can find you one if you wish."

"Male and female. You're anticipating me."

"Not at all. You said you were here to speak of your relationship with John and you said you wanted to save time."

"John and I have not had sex of any kind."

"Okay."

"Very good, Ms. Thompson. I almost couldn't read . . . but enough about that. An interesting suggestion, but I do not wish to engage a sexual surrogate."

"Then continue Mr. Holmes. How else can I be of service?"

"Recently, there has been a welcome change in my life. John has returned to 221B Baker St. I had not realized how much I missed his presence there."

Ella sat silent.

He went on. "John and Mary are having problems in their marriage. Problems having to do with John's inability to forgive Mary for her lies to him early in the relationship. She and John have separated and he has moved back in with me. As of yesterday, Mary began dating another man."

Ella felt her cheek twitch. She had not known Mary had begun dating. She was surprised that John had not called her and she had a sneaking suspicion that Sherlock Holmes had divined every bit of this from her face.

He had carried on speaking right through her thoughts, showing no sign of anything. She tuned back in and watched for any sign he was reading her.

"John seems sad, but not uncomfortable," he was saying. "For the sake of his child, he requested I do something I'd already done. Vet the perspective date. The man seems nice and uncomplicated. He knows nothing of Mary's past. If anonymity is what she needs, he seems an excellent candidate for a future mate."

"Jumping ahead yourself, Mr. Holmes. Is this what _you_ hope will happen?"

"Somewhat, yes. Mary and I maintain a close friendship. So I would like her to be happy. That will not change. But _I_ would be happier if I had John at my side more than he has been during his marriage."

"Got it. Continue."

He pulled two phones out of his pocket and tapped out a text on one. A quiet, feminine gasp sounded in the room. He looked up at Ella.

"Provocative," she said.

"The Woman programmed my phone so I would hear this sound when she texted. I have to admit I found it . . . stirring."

_I'll bet!_ Aloud she said "And you've kept it."

He nodded. She noticed no embarrassment or signs of increased interest or sadness.

He went on. "Yesterday I returned home and found John asleep in his chair. It is Mary's week with their daughter and her first date with her new interest was tonight, so it was no surprise that he'd been sad all day and mentioned he hadn't slept well. Initially I was happy to see him sleeping. But then a spasm crossed his face and I realized he was having a nightmare. I reached out to awaken him but hesitated when he made a sound. A small moan of discomfort. It affected me in ways I didn't expect. My cheeks grew warm and my pulse increased. My thoughts flew back to The Woman and once again, I had a desire for a more practical understanding of . . ." he paused.

"Sex," she finished his phrase.

"Yes. Sex."

"You want to have sex, with John."

He hesitated again and then said, "Apparently so. I've never felt this way before. But I will say I'm a different man than I was when I knew The Woman. Any intimacy with her other than cerebral would not have worked as she could not help but use it to her advantage. Her greater knowledge of physical intimacy would have given her that advantage and in many ways, did.

"I have complete trust in John and it is through him that I've experienced the most change. Our separation. John's reaction to my supposed death. His explosive reaction to my return. His marriage and the changes that brought about in our relationship, all have taught me a great deal about being a friend. About being his friend.

"Anyway, I did, after a moment, reach out again to awaken him but apparently something very upsetting happened in the dream and he heaved his chest and woke himself up. He was grateful to me as he thought I had done it. I disabused him of that notion, but I felt . . . I don't know, I can only call it guilt, that I had hesitated at all. That I'd found pleasure in his pain despite the fact that the moan of pleasure The Woman gave sounded almost identical to the moan of discomfort that John gave."

"Yes, but she was a dominatrix, was she not? Maybe hers was a moan of discomfort as well."

He sent her a sharp look. "Oh dear. She doesn't know what you like, does she?"


	3. Two Lists

**Two Lists**

Ella couldn't help but smile. "No. I've read about the case. I'm a fan of yours Mr. Holmes. I hope you don't mind. It won't get in my way."

"No, l'm currently endeavoring to trust you. And admiration of me is the thing I like most in the people I meet.

She blinked, but let it slide.

He went on. "Back to your point. Did you think of pain when you listened to that moan?"

"No," she admitted.

"But you feel there might be a sort of sado-maschistic aspect to my attraction to John and The Woman. I find that disturbing."

"I'm glad," she said. "But, yes. I think you have to examine that possibility." _Considering how you treat him at times. _She struggled to keep _that_ thought out of her face.

"Since this is all doomed to be academic, I will strive to do just that."

"Academic?"

"Of course. John is straight. Utterly and completely straight. Whatever I am, and until recently I would have told you I was asexual, I am not completely straight."

"You don't sound upset about it. That's good."

"I am who I am. I've always been okay with me."

She let that slide by as well. "Go ahead."

"I went on to complete an experiment involving some tongues I'd had in the refrigerator for far too long. They were in fact turning green. John took himself off to the store to replenish our supplies now that the refrigerator was to be empty. He then invited me to go with him for dinner with Mike Stamford. I turned him down. My new feelings were still rather raw and I wanted some time to observe them and myself and to hopefully gain some control over it all.

"This seemed a sound decision, however, being alone only seemed to make those feelings grow. Although I currently have no cases I wish to work on, I could tell if these feelings continue to intensify, they would eventually get in my way."

"So you called my office to leave a message for an appointment."

"Not immediately. First I googled." He sent her a rueful glance. "Ways to deal with an unrequited sexual attraction."

"I expect that netted some interesting replies."

"Indeed. I found a list," he said. "Number one. Masturbate." He looked up with an expression of distaste. "No."

"Why not?"

He looked at her as though shocked.

She pressed him. "To aid me in understanding who you are, tell me why."

He meditated for a moment and then said, "Because it seems lonelier somehow than living as a celibate."

She bit her lip. "A bit perfectionistic, but I see where you're going. I—er— please continue.

"Number two. Find another love interest," he hesitated, looking over at her. She motioned for him to continue. "Number three. Talk to a friend. Number four. Take a cold shower. Number five. Write about it. And number six. Get a therapist."

"So you . . . called my office—" she said.

At the same time he said, "Took a cold shower."

They looked at each other.

"Go on," she said.

"The cold shower helped, but unless I wanted to walk around drenched all the time, I could tell its efficacy was going to be of short duration. I looked at the list again and chose the next least revolting suggestion. I remembered you had given John the directive to keep a blog. In fact that blog has been responsible for bringing some of our most famous cases to my attention. You will always have my gratitude for that. Anyway, I decided to do some writing. Not a blog of course but perhaps explore in writing, some of the things I find attractive about John."

"And you thought this would help _decrease_ your preoccupation with your feelings." Her voice was filled with wonderment.

He stared at her for a moment. "Yes, I admit at the time, I did. I can see now that was a mistake. In fact, I saw last night it was a mistake."

"Do you have the list you wrote?"

"Er, no. Wait, yes I do. I emailed it to myself. So I can bring it up on my phone."

"Why would you email it to yourself?"

"Because I wrote it on John's computer." He glanced up from pressing buttons on his phone and saw her surprise. "His computer was closer. It's deleted now. I often use John's computer rather than fetching my own."

"I won't ask you how John feels about this. Do you have the list?"

He attempted to hand her his phone.

"Read it to me please."

"Eh, okay. Why I like John Watson. (I know that sounds childish, but I had to start somewhere.)"

She waved for him to continue.

"I like the way John admires me. Then I changed that to how he admires my work.

"I like the way he expresses that admiration, out loud and often." He looked up. "Love that, really. One of the best things about him."

Her fingers tapped an irritated tattoo on the arm of the chair. "Go on."

"At this point I began to feel better and I considered the possibility that you weren't the complete moron I had heretofore considered you." He eyed her for a moment. "No offense."

She hid a smile. "Certainly not. Please continue."

"I like the way he assists me. Knows what I need before I have to ask. I missed that so much during our separations. My work alone is no longer as fulfilling. There's a symmetry to our efforts that's like a waltz at times. It's really quite stimulating.

"I decided at this point to stop for the night. John would be home soon and I wanted to get the list off his computer and be available to hear a brief narrative about his evening. I felt much relieved and that relief continued throughout the rest of our time together. We had a good talk and retired to our respective rooms in harmony."

"Then what happened?"

He hesitated. "I suppose the fact that you ask that question shows that you have some idea of what befell me that night. Might I ask what your thoughts are about what you've heard so far? I'm wondering."

"Hm, I can give you some. The rest I'd like you to discover for yourself."

"Pardon me, but isn't that what _you're_ for? I'd like to hear everything, please. I can handle it if that's your concern."

"No, Mr. Holmes. This we will do my way. I can give you some insights now, but not all."

He bowed his head in a nod. "All right."

"You may be confusing work intimacy with love. Working together can often imitate real intimacy. Being there for one another, rescuing one another from mistakes, a common view of the other coworkers and the work itself. It can be very intoxicating. But that alone is not love."

"I see. Interesting. I do not think that is all that I'm feeling."

"Okay, may I ask you a question about your list?"

He nodded.

"Do you notice a unifying element about each of the items you've listed?"

"You mean besides John?"

"Um, well yes."

"They're all about me."

She chose to allow her surprise to show. "Correct."

"They're my personal feelings about how John affects me. Doesn't it make sense they would all be about me?"

She said nothing.

He seemed flustered. "I'm not sure of the point you're trying to make here. I'm trying to be honest with you. Believe me I am both John's and my, favorite thing."

She raised her brows.

He placed his tented fingers against his mouth. Then replied stiffly, "Looking back over that sentence I see that I'm being more honest about myself than even I realized. I'll have to consider this more. Thank you."

She nodded.


	4. Redbeard

**Redbeard**

"Back now to your question about what happened after we adjourned to our separate rooms. All was well with me until I lay down to sleep. There was a short wrestling match between me and my mind. I wanted to get up and return to writing my list about what I liked about John. But I had been up for two days and the physical won out over the mental and I fell asleep."

"And?"

"It was horrible."

"Nightmares?"

"More like uncomfortable dreams. Dreams about my childhood. About my . . . about Redbeard. About my brother. The Woman. Dreams about John having a nightmare and me kissing him awake, something I infinitely preferred to the way it actually happened.

"Anyway, I awoke more tired than I was when I lay down."

"Any physical reaction?"

"Yes, of course. It took several minutes to get parts of me to, er, settle down."

"Is that when you called—"

"Yes. I've never had an experience like that. I usually don't dream at all. I go long periods of time without sleeping so when I do, my focus is on sleep. I felt that since this was your technique, you would be the one to tell me what I did wrong."

"Certainly. You did nothing wrong. Who is Redbeard."

He sat back and glared. "I must have done something wrong. I did not get the effect I wanted."

"What did you want?"

"Peace. Redbeard was a friend I had when I was a child."

"Redbeard was the name of another child?"

"No, Redbeard was the name of a dog. Please address what I did wrong."

"A dog. I see. The only thing you did wrong Mr. Holmes was not have anyone to vent to about the feelings that would come up after you wrote your list. Calling me and making an appointment rectified that, so you ultimately did nothing wrong. But even if you hadn't called, you learned something from the exercise and that was really the point. Was Redbeard your best friend as a child?"

"He was my only friend as a child."

"What happened to Redbeard?"

"There came a time, when I was quite young, that Redbeard became ill and had to be . . . put down. It upset me terribly."

"How did you get past the loss?"

"I learned."

Ella looked confused. "You learned? Please help me see what you mean."

"My brother found me crying over—over the loss. He explained that this was what came of getting involved. For having feelings. Feelings should be locked up tight where they can't do you any harm. For the next several years, if he found me having feelings about anything, he reminded me of R-, my loss. It was most effective."

"Mr. Holmes, if we have another session, I would like you to bring your brother here to meet with me."

He stared at her in revulsion. "For the love of all that's good in the world, why would you want that?"

"So I can hit him."

He stared at her. And then began to laugh. Tears began in his eyes but he continued. Finally he managed to say, "You don't want to hit Mycroft. He's fairly important in government circles."

"I know who Mycroft Holmes is and I know exactly what I'd like to do to him."

Sherlock glanced at his phone. "It's been almost two hours. I believe these sessions usually run an hour. Are we to continue or stop for today?"

"Good Lord," Ella said in surprise. "You're right. You've had enough for one day. Go home. Think about what we spoke of and decide if we should see each other again."

"I can decide that now. I'd like to continue. I'm learning a great deal and I rather think I should have done this sooner.

"Also, I'm at loose ends right now. Summer slump, I suppose. Crime seems to be down. I can come back tomorrow, the next day, whatever's good for you."

She smiled. "I'm open tomorrow. Let's try to keep the sessions to an hour. First thing in the morning good for you?"

He smiled back and took his leave.


	5. Notes: Sherlock's Chart

**Notes - Sherlock's Chart**

Case File# 4300342

Patient presented for a first appointment under a pseudonym and in the superficial disguise of a mustache and dark glasses. He divested himself of the disguise and admitted his true identity immediately once the door closed to the office. He denied trying to fool this writer, but only to elude the notoriety he has accumulated over the last several years.

Since this patient has a close relationship to another of my clients, Case File# 4199982, I objected to seeing him. The patient refused all offers of alternative providers and did allow this writer to call Case File#4199982. Case File#4199982 gave verbal permission for this patient to enter into therapy with this writer.

Patient's stated objective is to gain a better understanding of relationships as a whole and his relationship with his flat mate in particular. He has a realistic view of the current relationship and a clear view of how far the relationship can be expanded.** He sees his flat mate as completely straight with no idea that his flat mate is going through a re-evaluation of that orientation based on a short but intense relationship he had as an adolescent. **

**The patient has strong deductive abilities that have not helped him see this fact despite his confidence that any change his flat mate has experienced, would be immediately apparent to him. **

This patient seems to truly be in pain and it is probable he will not address this pain if turned away. Patient was thirty minutes early for session and is requesting daily sessions which also shows his level of pain. Much of his pain is possibly due to a difficult relationship with his older brother who seems to have treated the patient when young, in many of the same ways the adult patient treats others.

Signed consents to treat from both will be an ongoing part of this case


	6. John is Suspicious

**John is Suspicious**

John Watson shifted in his chair, the clipboard on his lap. On the clipboard were two official looking documents asking for his signature. One to validate the verbal agreement of the day before, and the other to allow his therapist to do more work with his best friend.

John clipped the pen onto the clipboard and looked across the room at Ella..

"Have you signed them?" Ella asked.

"I signed the first one, y'know, for yesterday. Not the second one yet," he said. "To be honest I was so shocked that he was here, I couldn't think straight. I still can't."

He leaned forward. "Listen, Ella, I _know_ Sherlock. He's full of tricks. I don't think you're prepared for how manipulative he is. You've heard from our past sessions some of the times he's fooled me. I worry we'll both be sorry we allowed him in here at some point in the future."

"Okay," she said.

That answer seemed to fluster John. "I mean, if he wants some kind of help, I don't want to get in his way, but I mean, why you? He hates you. He thinks you're an idiot. I mean, he thinks all therapists are idiots, so it's not personal. But still."

"Okay," she said again.

"I mean, what do you think? Is it genuine, his desire to be here?"

"This is what I can tell you. Your records are not here. He will not be able to find them."

"Oh I wouldn't be too sure about that."

"Okay, I'll add the disclaimer that Sherlock Holmes may attempt to get your records by illegal means and that he may succeed, and you can initial that one as well.

"As well as what?"

"As well as these 17 other disclaimers." She took the clipboard and scribbled a sentence at the bottom of the paper. "You need to read and initial them all in order for Mr. Holmes to continue in therapy here. He's already signed a release for me to be able talk to you.

"There is a possibility that he will be able to read things on my face. I will endeavor to keep that from happening. There's a disclaimer that I may not be successful at that, right there."

"So you're not going to tell me if you think he's sincere even with a release from him?"

"John, I decide what and how much to tell each of you and that paper gives me the power to do that. This is about safety and boundaries. For you and Sherlock."

John looked disappointed. "All right then," he said at last. He scanned the rest of the statements. "You've been thorough. You've even thought of some I wouldn't have."

"Well?" she asked, her hand out.

He sighed, signed the paper, initialed all the statements and handed her back the clipboard. "I'll bet there'll be more of those before we're through."

"Not a bet I'd take," she said. "So, how are you?"

"Mary's dating." John pursed his lips and looked at her.

"Hm. How do you feel about that?"

"It's mixed . . . yeah, mixed. On the one hand, I love her. I've had a wonderful time with her. And I love our daughter and I wish our relationship had not become so . . . so difficult."

"And on the other hand?"

"I want her to be happy."

"And do you not think that can be with you?"

He shrugged. She noticed a helplessness in the gesture. A powerlessness. "I don't know. The feelings I began having have interfered . . . interfered . . ." He shook his head.

"You'd just started telling me about the reasons you and Mary had separated last week. Do you think we could expand on that now?"

"I think so. I've thought a lot about it this week. And I think I understand it better. I've always loved women, y'know, sexually. So I know I'm not gay. But my relationships with men have been more fulfilling somehow. And that relationship I had when I was 15 was the closest thing I've ever experienced to a love match. And that was with a mate of mine. A bloke."

"But no sex?"

"No. We were both with girls. We slept with girls. In fact, he may never have felt the same way. He died in the war. We hadn't seen each other in several years, but it hit me hard, even so."

"And now?"

He sighed and sat up. "Well now, there's Sherlock." He smiled ruefully. "Right from the start, when he showed up and interrupted the proposal, I knew he'd get in the way of our marriage. My feelings for him would take over again. And now Mary knows too."

"She does?"

"Yeah. She used the word: bi," he rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I guess I finally know where those rumors came from."

"Do you think you're bi?"

"I've always suspected I was bi. But with only one male who ever attracted me, I thought I'd grown out of it."

"How does Mary feel?"

"Well she loves Sherlock almost as much as I do. She just isn't going to take a back seat to him. Y'know we might not have gotten through the first month, Mary and me, if it weren't for Sherlock. When she shot him, I didn't think I'd ever forgive her. He forced me. Made her into a client. Made me see her side. Made me love her again."

"And what did that mean to you?"

He sat up straighter. "It meant three years, I guess. Because that's how long it took. I tried to let the times Sherlock and I were together be enough, but they weren't. Even when he wasn't there, he was. I could hear him in my head. I could feel him in my heart. He makes room for himself in your life. Just barges in and takes over."

She realized she was nodding and stopped, but John seemed not to notice.

He shook his head. "He gave it a good go, getting me and Mary back together, because I was dead set against it. Most of the time Sherlock gets his way. He shouldn't, but he does. It just seems there's nothing you can do to stop it because he's . . . y'know . . ."

"Sherlock," she finished.

He laughed. "I think we need another disclaimer if we're both going to fall in love with him. "

She smiled. "No. I just feel that was an apt description. So he got you back together, but it didn't last. What now? Will you court— Sherlock?"

"Very funny. _That'll _never be. I mean Sherlock is . . . well I don't know what Sherlock is. I think he's a virgin. I think sex is the last thing on his mind."

"And on yours?"

He grimaced. "I can't imagine it to be honest. Couldn't imagine it with my old mate either. But I'm happier now I'm at Baker's Street and Sherlock's never going to give me a reason to, y'know, challenge any of my ways of, er, going on. So I guess we'll both be asexual, not something I ever thought I'd be. Things'll go on the way they used to but with my daughter being there every other week. Sherlock and I agreed to that.

"Besides, Sherlock and me with male on male sex? Blind leading the blind, mate. Not much chance of that happening."

"If no one takes the initiative, I guess you're right."

"No point initiating when you know nothing's going to happen, right?"

She could find nothing to say.


	7. Notes: John's Chart

**Notes - John's Chart**

Case File#4199982

Patient signed and initialed all relevant paperwork to allow Case File# 4300342 to continue in therapy. The patient seems calmer and more focused than he has been in several months. He reports he's happy to be back in his old place and back with his old flat mate. The sexual feelings he has toward his flat mate he feels are unrequited, under control and will not be an issue.

Patient also feels his wife, who is newly dating someone else, understands his decision and that they will be co-parents without the arguments that usually ensue. He reports she knows how he feels about his flat mate and is not jealous or even angry.

Despite the increase in the number of changes and stressors, patient does not feel the need to increase his appointments from once a week.

**I feel there's a crisis coming, but I don't see a way to head it off at this point. **


	8. Stereotypes and Labels

**Stereotypes and Labels**

You or Mycroft?

Sherlock squinted at her. "Wha-, oh, who's smarter?"

"No, who did your mother love more?"

"Ahh, the kind of questions I _thought_ I would get from you lot."

"Were there any answers you thought you would give us?"

"Neither."

"Seriously." She was astonished.

"Completely. She has very little discernment. Remarkably even-handed with both of us."

"Does Mycroft feel the same way?"

"He should. It's the truth. I'm sure he sees it. But you can call him and ask him if you wish."

"I can't. That would let him know you're in therapy."

"Oh, Ms. Thompson. He already knows."

"What? How could he?"

Sherlock shrugged. "He always does. You don't think a mustache and dark glasses would fool Mycroft. He probably knew my feelings were in trouble long before I did."

"Well I don't need to call him. But I will ask for an answer to _your_ question. Who do you feel is smarter?"

"Mycroft, of course. He's always been on top that way."

"But isn't he older?"

"Seven years. But in terms of power, he was to me as an adult. As a third parent, in fact."

"Perhaps that's why you think he's smarter?"

"No. He just is."

"You are remarkably clear of any sibling rivalry."

He stared at her. "You are remarkably wrong. Mycroft is the Matterhorn I'm always trying to surmount."

"Have you ever?"

"At times. It is ever the thrill it should be. One should always have challenges."

She choked.

He smiled. "Yes, Ms. Thompson, I feel your pain. Keep in mind that yesterday you wanted Mycroft here as well."

"I can see I would have been in even more over my head. What's your greatest regret where John is concerned?"

"My greatest regret should be the fake death and the two years apart. My greatest regret _is_ that I'll never be able to tell him how I feel."

"Hmm. Well let's talk about the two years. You feel no regret about that?"

"How can I? It was the best thing I've ever accomplished. The fact that it took me two years (with Mycroft's help mind you) to destroy Moriarty's network should tell you just how amazing it was."

"Yes, but in terms of your relationship with John . . ."

"I didn't know I was going to discover these feelings at that time."

"You knew you loved him in some form or fashion."

"Yes. But, and I've said this so much I'm becoming annoyed, Moriarty had to be stopped. Do men not go to war and leave loved ones behind because it's to add to the greater good? We'd all be in trouble if they didn't. And by men I mean both sexes, of course."

She grinned. "Thank you. But Sherlock, why could John not know."

"Oh please, Ms. Thompson. You know the man. He wears his feelings on his sleeves. The whole world can read him, not just me. Moriarty had assassins assigned to the three people he felt I loved. Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and John. If any one of those changed their mood, their activities, their expressions after my," he raised his hands and made air quotes, "'death' then all three would have been killed."

"Moriarty had such a reach after he died."

"People, even bad people have loyalties. Moriarty made a large group of bad people very successful and powerful. I couldn't take the chance for my friend's sakes, that those people had no loyalties. He also had lieutenants who upheld what he wanted including surveillance of three of the four people I care about the most.

"So each did what anyone would expect. John refused to return to 221B for two years. Mrs. Hudson left the apartment empty, and Lastrade solved far fewer cases. All believed, therefore all did what was natural to them. It saved their lives.

"The only one he missed was Molly."

She cocked her head. "The coroner?"

"Yes. Thank God or I would have been able to do nothing."

"How did he miss her?"

He looked uncomfortable for a moment. "He probably saw how I treated her and the fact that she was in love with me and took it from there."

She sent him an angry look.

"If you're wanting to hit _me_ now, Ms. Thompson, don't bother. Molly has slapped me several times." He rubbed his jaw. "She has a farmer's arm."

"Stop it! I'm sure you deserved every smack."

He smiled. "I did, but not for the reason she slapped me."

"So John, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson had to think you were dead the entire two years."

"Yes. And I was successful in bringing down a titanic criminal organization. Two years of pain was their contribution. They should feel honored."

She stared at him and allowed all of her feelings to be seen.

He laughed. "Yes. I'm sure they would agree with you."

"Did you miss them at all? Or were you too wrapped up in what you were doing to allow them to creep into your thoughts."

"I missed every one, including Molly, more for their unique talents, the talents I chose them for at the start."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, I also missed them for them. In fact I almost called John several times. Sentiment. Mycroft would fuss."

"He'd bring up Redbeard."

"He would indeed. Are you trying to deprogram my reaction to that name?"

"Yes."

"Hm. It might be working."

She smiled. "How did each person take the news you were back?"

"John was the angriest, Molly the most steadfast, Lastrade was the warmest and Mrs. Hudson was the funniest."

"Why?"

"Let's just say, once I got her past the idea I was a ghost, she was very happy."

"Okay, I see the necessity, but I understand John's anger. You put work ahead of his feelings."

He rolled his eyes. "You miss the most obvious aspect of that work, Ms. Thompson. I had to dismantle Moriarty's network or John wouldn't have had the luxury of feeling anything. Moriarty's lieutenants had standing orders to kill all three if I was discovered to be alive. All three were under constant observation up to the last, deepest embedded and most difficult group to break apart. They were tangled in the grasp of Moriarty's heart. I had to cut out that heart to make them safe."

"So you're saying you did it all for them?"

He hesitated, a doubtful look on his face. "I guess . . . I wouldn't have said so before . . . but yes. You could say that."

She was silent.

"Now, Ms. Thompson. I have a question for you. You're calling me Sherlock. Does this mean you no longer see me as John's stalker?"

She smiled. "I think we're making progress."

"And may I call you Ella?" He raised his brows.

"Certainly," she said. "Now, what about this high functioning Sociopath nonsense."

His face grew cold and for the first time unapproachable. "I thought we weren't going to talk about things you heard from John."

"We aren't. It was in the newspaper. You said it well within the hearing of several soldiers when you shot Magnussen. And the young lady the tabloids connected you with, Janine, also mentioned you described yourself that way in her interview with The Star."

"Well Janine's a liar. Nothing happened or would have happened with her. She made all of it up as revenge. I deserved that, I have to admit." He seemed to re-consider what she had said. "So you don't agree with my self-diagnosis? Be careful, Ella. You don't know all sides of me. Don't leap to the conclusion that you do."

"I may know more than you think," she said. "Sociopaths, even high functioning ones, don't show this much consideration, concern and caring for other people as I've seen you show. Even to the ones who are close to them."

"Then what do _you_ think I am?"

"Angry."


	9. More Notes: Sherlock's Chart

**More Notes - Sherlock's Chart**

Case File# 4300342

Patient gave some history on his relationship and current view of his brother. This brother is seven years older than the patient and has maintained an all powerful persona that still affects the patient today. In fact the patient feels his brother knows he is in therapy and why, despite his never sharing any of this with him. Some possible signs of delusion.

The patient's brother's insistence on the patient avoiding all sentiment and attachment is perhaps a way the brother sought to keep his very sensitive younger sibling (and in some ways his child) safe. However, the all consuming manner in which he did this seems to have amounted to a kind of torture that severely hobbled the patient's ability to have relationships.

The patient has warned this writer that he is not to be trusted. This writer has no illusions that he may attempt to use manipulation to his advantage if he ever feels it is necessary and that what is best for him is often confused with what is best for others. But that doesn't mean that the greater good is not what he's going for. His warning is to protect and alert me, someone he has very little relationship with. Just someone he needs information from.

Patient's next appointment will be in two days.


	10. Mycroft Looks In

**Mycroft Looks In**

Ella hurried from the elevator to the waiting room of her office. "Sarah, I'm so sorry. Got stuck in funeral traffic and my phone couldn't find a signal. Is my 9 o'clock here?

The receptionist's eyes were large and red-rimmed. She shook her head. "He got cancelled."

"Oh, good." She looked at Sarah again. "What's wrong? You look upset.

And, what do you mean 'he got cancelled.'

"I think the man from the government in your office told him not to come."

"A man from the government?" Then the rest of the information hit her. "_In my office?! _ Why?"

"I don't know."

"No, I mean, why is he in my office without me being there?"

"He insisted in a really strong way."

"You're kidding. What did he say?"

"He . . . knew things about me. If you want to fire me, okay. I showed him in because I had no choice."

"Really! Well we'll revisit this later. We may need the police, er not for you of course. For him. If I don't contact you in 30 seconds, call them."

She walked down the hall and opened the door. "Mycroft Holmes I presume?"

The tall man turned and pointed at her with his umbrella. "You're late, Ms. Thompson. What does that say about you? Angry? Anxious? Depressed?"

"Very funny. It says I should know more routes to the office than just the freeway. Besides, we didn't have an appointment." She picked up her phone, pressed one number. "It's okay, I've got it under control." She hung up. "Why are you here?"

"For the same reason that you knew who I was before you walked in. You're seeing my little brother professionally. I'm here to—"

"I can't confirm—"

"—or deny. Yes I know. What do you have to do? Call Sherlock to ask if it's okay to talk to me? I assure you I am only here to help. Not to complicate what I'm sure is already a very tangled situation. You can call Sherlock. He's probably been expecting you for the last thirty minutes."

"Don't you two find all this know-it-all stuff exhausting?"

"You have no idea. Off you go. I know you have to call from another room. Do you want your receptionist to watch me? She doesn't seem very comfortable with being around me."

"You scared her. So you've spoken to Sherlock about coming here?"

"Not at all. Now hurry and call. I know there are no records kept in here."

Ella returned and took her place at her desk. "Why are you here?"

"I want to help."

"With what?"

"The great romance."

She said nothing.

"Ms. Thompson, I agree with you that I'm a large part of Sherlock's problem. I trained him in my image. That of an ice cube. I still feel that is the safest choice for him as he can be extremely emotional and sensitive. However, I love my brother and I guess life is going to work its will on him no matter what I do. Since John has come into his life, I've had less of an ability to hold Sherlock's emotionality in check. He's acquiring friends left and right. What does he have now? Four?" He shuddered. "Recklessness."

"When exactly did you come to this understanding, Mr. Holmes?"

"Last week, why?"

She leaned back and crossed her legs. "What were your previous ways of 'training' Sherlock in your image?"

Mycroft adjusted in his chair. "I admit my behavior hasn't been very admirable. I was both jealous of Sherlock as a child and fond of him. My parents showed no favoritism to him being the baby of the family, but I felt his very presence indicated favoritism. They'd had me for seven years. I should have been enough. Why did this slow-witted, mop-top, gangly child with the slobbery disposition of a puppy have to be— Good Lord, why are you looking at me like that?"

"What way am I looking at you?"

"Like you want to hit me. Ah! You've heard about Redbeard, have you? Yes, he was the cudgel I used to keep young Sherlock under my thumb. I rue the day. Does that help?"

"Not much. But I'm glad you're going to stop. Now, to what romance are you referring?"

"Oh please, the new Kimye. Johnlock of course. Sherlock was smitten the first time John offered to let him use his mobile. That was when they first met, in case you aren't aware. Anytime someone is _there_ for Sherlock, they have his interest. When John followed up with unbridled admiration of Sherlock's 'genius' my brother was halfway to planning a life together. Most people treat Sherlock's ability at deduction as creepy."

"Sherlock seems to feel it started about a week ago, not all the way back to . . ."

"Yes, well in some things Sherlock is very slow. But I saw the signs at once. When I first met John I knew he could make or break Sherlock. I'm still not sure which it's going to be.

"What I need to know now, Ms. Thompson, is how does John feel about Sherlock?"

Her face froze. He shouldn't have, but he'd taken her by surprise.

"Thank you, Ms. Thompson. That's all I wanted to find out."

She glared at him.

"Now, how are you keeping it from Sherlock? He's not as quick as I am, but surely . . ."

"We don't talk about John, per se. We have an agreement."

"I see. Or you won't work with him. Well done. Now, _why_, are you keeping it from Sherlock. All you have to do is tell one or the other and that should be all it will take."

"Yes, because that's all therapists do. Just tell people how to go on and send them on their way."

Mycroft looked politely bored. "And isn't it?"

"No. There's an issue here I have to find a way to help them over. Otherwise they'll get together briefly and fly apart because of it."

Mycroft waited. "Well go on, Ms. Thompson, what is that?"

"Trust."

"And you think that is an important thing here?"

"I do."

He shrugged. "You're the professional. I suppose I can ride with that for a while. But pick up the pace, Ms. Thompson, or you'll see more of me."

She continued to glare. "What happened to _you_, Mr. Holmes that makes you so-?"

"Stop right there, Madam." He got up from his chair. "You will not be shrinking me. I'm doing fine. This _is_ my way of life. I'm seeing now that I've imposed it onto Sherlock and it does not fit. I've always protected him, or tried to, but I realize that my interference has made a petulant, spoiled, arrogant two year old. Which was right about the time I began molding him." He picked up his coat.

"If you need me to do something you cannot, this is my emergency number. Don't hesitate to ask. Something you should know. Mary Morstan is a good and worthy woman but she is also very dangerous. She seems to have a wise head on her shoulders and to be an amazingly good sport, but she does things for her own reasons just like Sherlock, and her intentions can be hard to see beforehand. She is one of the few people to have fooled both Sherlock and myself.

"There will be no notes about this meeting, Ms. Thompson. I'll know if you do. They will disappear. So don't bother."

"My notes help me think and choose how to handle a case. I will write what I like. If they disappear I'll write them again. Now, good day.

He nodded to her and walked out of the door, swinging his umbrella.

She closed the door behind him. "Well!" she said to herself "That makes some things a bit clearer. Goodness, what a difficult brother to have."


	11. Family Note: Sherlock's Chart

**Family Note - Sherlock's Chart  
**

Case File #430032B

A concerned family member came in for a session without an appointment. He wanted to add to the patient's history and clarify his role in it. He would also like to help in the future and has made himself available to attend sessions and other options if necessary. Case File #430032 gave verbal permission for the session to take place.

The patient is definitely not delusional as regards his brother.

The next day the Ella noticed a small yellow sticky note.

Well done, Ms. Thompson. This can stay. M.

She wrote at the bottom: Stay out of my files Mr. H. or I'll call the authorities.

The next day she found another sentence under what she had written.

I am the authorities. Call away. By the way, May I call you Ella?

The day after that the note was gone.


	12. Sirens, Rocks and Relationships

**Sirens, Rocks and Relationships**

"Don't worry about Mycroft Holmes, Sarah. This has been an unusual situation. Hopefully things will settle down soon. Who knew the summer slump would be so overwrought. Send Mr. Holmes in when he arrives." She disappeared into the hallway to her office.

"Which Mr. Holmes is that?" Sarah called, fear in her voice.

The Ella poked her head back into the waiting room. "Sherlock," she said and disappeared again.

"Did you and Mycroft have a good discussion?" He asked after signing a release for the Ella to talk to Mycroft.

"Mr. Holmes—"

"Ah back to the formal address are we? Now I _really_ want to know what he said. There is no confidentiality between you and Mycroft as he is not your patient. So what did he tell you?"

"He mentioned Redbeard."

Sherlock's chin came up and his eyes flashed in anger. "Did he admit how he used him?"

"He did. He seems to like the idea of you getting therapy."

"Hm. That makes me want to quit. Did you hit him?"

She laughed. "The opportunity didn't arise. But he read my desire to in my face."

Sherlock laughed and rocked in his chair. "Thank you, Ella. More and more I'm glad I decided to do this. I'm interested in seeing what we will speak of today."

"I thought Irene Adler would be a good place to start."

His face fell. "Why on Earth?"

"She's the only other person you considered having a relationship with, correct?"

"Yes, for about a second. I would never align with a common blackmailer."

"But what were the attributes that made you _want _to align with her?"

He steepled his hands against his mouth. Then noticed her trying not to smile.

"What?" he demanded. "What is funny?"

"Your hand placement is just interesting."

"How so?"

"When you want to know something, you steeple your hands and put them under your chin. When you don't want to talk about something, you steeple them and put them against your mouth."

"Ah, it's true I don't want to discuss my attraction to The Woman."

"Why?"

"Because I don't understand it myself. I don't like to talk about things of which I don't have a complete understanding."

"That's because you're a control freak," Ella said.

"Did you just call me "freak", Ella? You sound like a certain policewoman I know. So does this mean I have trust issues?"

"It does."

"Not surprising. Okay. Why am I strangely attracted to The Woman? One, I could find no flaw in her beauty or her body. Like a fabulous diamond, she glittered in every light. Two, her audacity was breathtaking. She never let an opening to take control of things pass her by. Three, she was brilliant and almost as strong an opponent as Moriarty. I felt stimulated in her presence. Intellectually stimulated, of course. Four, she brought out a protectiveness in me I usually only reserved for my friend, John. Five, I think she reminded me of my mother in some odd way."

"Okay, now, what do you think of John's physique? Do you find him a magnificent specimen of manhood?"

Sherlock laughed. "No. John is an attractive man. But not magnificent."

"Is he brilliant? Would you find him a strong opponent?

"I see what you're doing, Ella. No, John is intelligent; an able doctor, a superior shot, a brave and audacious fighter. But he doesn't stand out like The Woman did in any way but his loyalty and kind nature. Are you saying my reasons for loving John are deeper and more profound than my reasons for being attracted to The Woman? Touche'.

"I'm also showing you that this list is very different from your first list. The one that was all about you. This list is all about—"

"John."

"Yes."

"Is that better?"

She smiled. "Yes, Sherlock. Much better. And much less childish. So do you know how Mary's date went the other night?"

He uncrossed his legs and adjusted in his chair. "You'd have done better to have asked Mycroft. He would probably know. I don't. I don't think John does either because he hasn't said anything. Moreover, he hasn't said anything about me seeing you. John keeps things inside. Unless you lock him in a carriage with a bomb. Then he does quite well."

She had heard about the bomb ordeal. "Have _you_ said anything about seeing me?"

"Uh, no."

"And what does it take to get you to open up?"

Sherlock looked a little hurt. "I'm learning."

"Yes, you are doing a very good job."

His expression lifted. "So, change of subject. Why do you think I'm angry?"

"Why do you think I think you're angry?"

"Yes, there are times when you positively turn into the stereotype right before my eyes."

"That's why they're stereotypes. Sometimes they fit. So . . ."

"The only person I can think of that I'm angry with is Mycroft."

"Yes! And?"

"That's all I've got. I'm angry with him. But I also. . ."

"Go on."

"I suppose love is what comes to mind. Look up to? Perhaps more that."

"I expect it's both. Let's look at the anger."

"That feels complicated."

"Well, it is, isn't it? You're bound up in him Sherlock. He is your perpetrator and your role model. You both are so smart. You say yourself he's the smartest, but you are dying to best him. You hate the way he brought you up but you treat others the way he treated you. Still. After all this time."

"Nonsense. I—"

"No, no. We're done for today. Go home Sherlock. Live with what I've said. Then decide if I'm onto something. We'll meet again tomorrow."

Sherlock stood and put on his coat. He pointed at Ella and opened his mouth.

"No. Home. Now. Or wherever. But not here."

He spun on his heel and left.


	13. Abbreviated Note: Sherlock's Chart

**Abbreviated Notes - Sherlock's Chart**

Case File #430032

The patient discussed several important relationships in his life. In exploring these relationships and his feelings about each he was able to show a much less juvenile side when it came to his feelings about his flat mate. Also his curiosity about his controlling brother suddenly inserting himself into his therapy is almost nonexistent. He seems to be accustomed to living under his brother's thumb (or watchful eye).

The next day she looked for a sticky note and found one that said:

Watchful eye, yes. Better Ella. M

She wrote underneath:

Mr. H This is not appropriate.

The next day the sticky note was gone.


	14. Opening Up -- The Attempt

**Opening Up - The Attempt**

Sherlock sat in his chair watching John bustle around picking up the living room. He tented his hands and placed them over his mouth, then realized what he was doing and took them away. He tucked them under his legs with a scowl.

"Everything okay, Sherlock?" John asked. "Because I could use some help."

Sherlock untucked his hands and tented them under his chin. "What do you think of our therapist?"

John set the stack of books back down on the table in front of him with a bang. "Oh no, Sherlock. We're not going to talk about this. If this is why you're over there seeing her then it's not gonna work. This is private."

"She mentioned it."

"What?"

"Me talking to you. She said I have some kind of a trust issue because I haven't done so."

"Really? Must be her favorite thing. She's told me that I have a trust issue too."

"Well you do."

"Well you do too."

"I agree. I do. I've always known that. Apparently I never knew why."

"And now you do. This fast. You know all about yourself. So you can stop seeing her, right? Leave her to the ones who need her."

"Why are you so angry? Do you want me to stop?"

John sat down in his own chair. "Is it helping?"

"I think it is. I _never_ would have thought—"

"Then why are you there? If you didn't think it would help, why did you go?"

An unfamiliar panic exploded in Sherlock's chest and he yanked himself out of his chair in one fluid motion and strode across the room to the window. A couple of deep breaths began the process of calming him.

"I had to," he said at last and turned around. His words caught in his throat. John was not in his chair. The front door was open and John was gone.


	15. Pot? Meet Kettle

**Pot? Meet Kettle**

"I did what you said. I brought it up."

Sherlock didn't look like his usual put together self. His scarf hung off his neck, his coat was open, he ran his hand through his disheveled curls and looked at her with an unusual tension.

"I did something wrong," he said. "I don't like to be wrong."

"What happened?" she asked. "Sit down and tell me."

Sherlock stayed standing. "I brought up seeing you. John became angry. He wanted to know why I was seeing you. He said I never believed in you, or in any kind of therapy. But I had just said you were helping. Then he disappeared."

"What do you mean he disappeared?"

"I don't know." Sherlock walked to the bookcase at the back of the room. "I was at the window. I turned and the door was open and John was gone. He didn't come back."

"Maybe he's at Mary's."

"Why would he go to Mary's?"

"You're making changes. He may have headed for something more familiar. Hang on." She picked up the receiver and punched out a number.

"Mary? Yes, it's me. Is John there? I see." She nodded at Sherlock.

"Sherlock er, called me. Yes, worried. Are you all right? I think he and Sherlock may have had one of their dust ups. Well as long as he's okay. Thanks Mary."

She hung up the phone. "Well that test worked out better than I'd expected."

"Better? What do you mean? You knew this would happen?"

"I figured it would scare bo— er, scare you. I see that it did."

"How was it better? How dare you manipulate—" He stared at her.

"Hmm, yes. How does it feel Sherlock to be on the other end of a manipulation?"

He turned his back. "Like a betrayal."

She sat down in her chair. "I'm not your friend, Sherlock."

"You certainly aren't."

She smiled to herself. "I'm here to try to move things along in your life. Things you've revealed that are sources of pain. And you were the one who wanted fast."

"I'm beginning to regret saying that. Fast hurts. I don't like to hurt."

"But it's okay for others to hurt."

He glared at her over his shoulder.

"Look, it's better than you not addressing what's going on."

He turned back around. "What _is _going on?"

"I guess we'll find out if you keep opening up."

"I'll never do _that_ again. He left."

"Oh it won't take him so completely by surprise next time. You need to talk this out. John doesn't seem the type to get upset just because you've discovered a new side of yourself."

"No," Sherlock said slowly. "In fact he mentioned that. He said 'It's all fine.'

"See? Nothing to worry about.

He still looked unhappy.

"Sherlock. If you don't want to open up any further, then I won't push you. I wanted you to try it and I wanted you on the receiving end of one of your types of manipulation. To teach you some things."

Sherlock tented his hands over his mouth and looked disgruntled.

"Which is what you said you wanted. Right? A little knowledge. Now come on and let's talk about what I have set out for today."

"I think I'm getting more knowledge than I anticipated." He hesitated, then took his seat. "All right, today's topic. Mycroft again?"

She nodded. "Did you think about what I said yesterday?"

"Yes. I agree. I treat others the way he treated me. But I have good intentions, a greater picture, it's to help . . ." His voice trailed off.

"Do you think Mycroft does it to help? Does he see a bigger picture?"

"Yes." Sherlock's voice was ragged. "He even says that's why. I thought he was laughing at me. But he does seem to think he is helping."

"Can you think of a time—"

"Of course. Several of them."

"Can you tell me one?"

"The school mistress. Moriarty had taken some children. I'm sure you read about it. The woman was overwrought and who wouldn't be? Her charges were stolen. But we had to get to them fast and I could tell she was going to defend and alibi herself and snivel and waste my time. So I . . ."

"What?"

"I accused her. Yelled at her. Frightened her. Any leverage I could think of. She couldn't speak fast enough. She told me what I wanted to know quickly which arguably helped the children. He looked at her. "But I didn't help her."

"Remind you of anyone?"

He didn't answer.


	16. A More Abbreviated Note: Sherlock's Char

**A More Abbreviated Note - Sherlock's Chart  
**

Case File #430032

Patient is making progress.

Sticky note:

Holding out on me Ella? M.

Answer:

Go away Mr. H.

This time she removed the note and put it in her desk drawer, locking it.

"Let's see if you get the message I wrote now, Mycroft Holmes." She said to herself.

The following day her desk was still locked, but the note was gone.


	17. Admissions and Truths

**Admissions and Truths**

Sherlock opened the door and was relieved to find John in the living room. Then Mary walked out of the kitchen with a cup she handed to John.

"Hello, Sherlock. Tea?"

_Go away! _He shook off the thought and summoned a smile. "Mary, how delightful. No, none for me."

She gave him a jaundiced look. "Don't worry. I'm leaving."

"Thanks, Mary," John said.

"Next time call first," she said. "I don't want any ugly surprises for either of us."

"Of course."

"I'll see you Friday for the child exchange."

"Right. I'll be on time."

Mary turned to Sherlock. "You two need to have a talk. A _real_ talk for a change. Like a spring cleaning to empty out your closets and such."

"It's summer," Sherlock drawled.

She rolled her eyes, picked up her purse and left.

"What's she on about?" Sherlock asked John.

John looked nervous, but shook his head. "You're guess is as good as." He stifled an urge to follow Mary and choke her.

Sherlock walked to the couch and collapsed onto it. "Why did you leave?"

"I was . . . upset. You're acting strangely and I'm worried what you're up to."

"You don't trust me." It was a statement.

"Why should I?"

Sherlock's lips tightened. "You're right. I've lied to you. Often. More than you know."

John shifted in his chair. "I'm sure you meant it for the best."

Sherlock's eyes lit up. "I did." He thought for a moment. "But I can understand why you don't trust me. You never know when something else that's 'for the best' will come up."

"Right. And then you'll lie again."

"Yes, I probably will."

John glared at him.

"But that's what honesty gets you, John," Sherlock said. "The truth."

"I know. And that doesn't help me trust you in the moment. Ultimately I know what you do is _for_ me. All the way back to manipulating me to give up my cane. And when you forced me to get over being angry with you."

A short silence ensued.

"She doesn't think I'm a sociopath," Sherlock said.

"Who? Ella? Well I don't know that I'd go that far."

He grinned.

Sherlock grinned back, then his grin faded. John's eyes seemed to have captured his. For a moment Sherlock read something he'd never seen in them before. Then it was gone. "John," he began. Had he seen what he thought he did?

John cleared his throat. "So?"

"So. You wanted to know why I'm seeing Ella."

"Yes."

"I'm trying to change. To be less . . ."

"You?"

It was a common joke between them, but this time a flicker of shame crossed Sherlock's face.

John looked at him in surprise. "You're serious. Hm. And that's the only reason?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Well if it's what you want then it's good I said yes."


	18. Mycroft Flexes His Power

**Mycroft Flexes His Power**

Mycroft Holmes stood on the curb as the cab pulled up.

"I once advised John to fire you. I'm beginning to think I need to do that again," Mycroft said, helping her out of the cab.

"If you can do better, please go ahead. I'd like to get this done and over. Especially if you're going to show up at my flat anytime you wish."

She stepped forward to pay the driver but Mycroft waved him on. The cab drove away.

"Why Ella! Won't you miss me?"

"Funny."

"Not going to invite me in?"

"No.

"All right, we'll talk here. We need to get this moving. I don't have the time to keep focusing on it."

"Please, return to your regular focus."

He smiled. "Not until this is settled. Now! We know they both fancy each other. But somehow John has found a way to hide that from Sherlock. I didn't know he had it in him."

She said nothing.

"Really Ella, they're never going to get together on their own. They must be pushed."

She squinted at him. "I am pushing. But it takes time. Oh wait! I get it now."

He looked discomfited. "I don't know what you mean."

"You're feeling guilty. You want to help him be happy quickly so you can stop feeling guilty or anxious or whatever. "

"Not at all." Mycroft examined his nails. "I'm surrendering. If this is what he wants, this is what he should have."

"Like a birthday present?"

"Exactly. So let's put our heads together and come up with something that will wrap this present up post haste. Is there any way you can do a double session?"

She looked at him with interest. "Actually that's not a bad idea. It could be very helpful therapeutically."

"Yes. Get those two in a room together with their defenses down and who knows what will happen? They may therapy their brains out. When can we do it?"

"John has a session coming up. I'll talk to him about changing it into a session with Sherlock."

"Let me know when."

"Certainly not."

"Oh no Ella. You're not going to have _all_ the fun."

"Well I'm not going to tell you. By the way. Is there a microphone in my office?"

He laughed. "Where would you come up with an idea like that?"

She gave him a long, steady look, then said. "Good night Mr. Holmes."

"Mycroft, please."

She threw him a startled glance. "I'll be doing a full cleaning at my office tomorrow, Mr. Holmes. I'd better not find anything." She unlocked her door and disappeared inside.

Mycroft made a call. "Cease sending me the transcripts of my brother's sessions, please. Remove the microphone from Ella Thompson's office for one day. Then go forward with the other plan."


	19. Three, er, Four Heads Are Better Than 1

**Three, er, Four Heads Are Better Than One**

"Thank you both for coming." Ella nodded at Sherlock and then addressed John. "John, I appreciate you changing your session to include Sherlock. I think this will be most productive."

"It's okay, but I don't understand why we're here together."

"Well, you both have trust issues and I felt it might be more productive if we did at least one session with the two of you. If I suggest anything either one of you is uncomfortable with, please let me know. Now, how a person develops trust is an interesting process. We'll start with some education on that process and I'd like the two of you to talk about people whom you feel have been detrimental to your trust."

Out in the waiting room, Sarah was checking the email on her phone when the outside door swung open. Knowing it was two hours before the next appointment; she frowned and glanced at the man entering the room. He was also checking something on his phone.

"Hello," he said, looking up from the screen. "Get out, please."

Her cheeks reddened and she grabbed her purse, scurrying past him. The man sat down at her desk and tapped something out on her computer. Sherlock's voice flooded the room discussing Mycroft's past bullying.

"Oh God, little brother

." The man decreased the volume. "Get over it. Seriously."

Mycroft listened as Ella detailed the exercise she wanted the two men to perform. He smiled. _The old "trust fall." I knew it._ He closed out the computer program and re-established it on his phone. Then he walked down the hall and stood just outside of Ella's office door watching his phone screen carefully.

Inside the office Ella stood and walked around her desk. "So who wants to fall first?"

Sherlock rose, smoothed his clothes and walked into the center of the room. "I will."

John took his place behind him.

"Now, Sherlock, close your eyes, hold out your arms, and start to fall backwards. John, you will catch him under his arms. Sherlock, when you're ready say so."

Sherlock closed his eyes. But as he held his arms out, John's face paled and he covered it with his hands. He sagged forward and stepped out of position.

"Ready," Sherlock said and began to rock backwards.

"Wait!" Ella said and jumped forward catching Sherlock's shoulder, sliding her other arm across his back. Sherlock's eyes sprang open and with one back step and her help, steadied himself.

John had staggered to a chair and collapsed into it, leaning forward, his face still in his hands.

Sherlock and Ella hurried to him.

"John," Ella said, Sherlock hovering at John's side. "What is it?"

John didn't answer. His breathing was ragged and audible. Finally he drew a shaky breath. "That was . . . it was. . . the position you stood in . . . when you . . . when you jumped."

Sherlock's head jerked up and he stared at Ella. "Is this you?" he spat at her. "A test? Another lesson in betrayal?"

"Of course not," she answered. "How was I to know what position you were in when you went off that building? I wasn't there."

The anger drained from Sherlock's face and he straightened, spun around and did an agitated walk around the room.

Meanwhile, Ella tended to John. "John, it's not happening now. Tell yourself that. It's not happening now. Sherlock is alive. All is well. He is safe. You are safe." Her words continued over and over.

At last John swallowed, nodded his head, heaved a sigh and sat back in the chair, his hands at his side. "Okay. I'm okay now. It's better."

"Do you need something? Water? Do you want to stop? We can do this another time."

Out in the hall, Mycroft threw his hands up and put one to his forehead.

Back in the room, Sherlock had returned to John's side.

John looked at him and gave a shaky smile. "At some point I'll get past this."

"Redbeard," said Sherlock.

John's smile disappeared into a look of confusion. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I have the same reaction when Mycroft brings up Redbeard."

Out in the hall, Mycroft rolled his eyes, sagged forward and shook his head.

Back in the room, John stared at Sherlock. "Who the _hell_ is Redbeard?"

"My dog. When I was a child. They killed him because he got ill. Look, I know it's not the same thing—"

John's expression had shifted at Sherlock's words. He turned and laid his hand on Sherlock's arm, interrupting him. "I am sorry," he said. "that you lost your dog. But Sherlock, it is _exactly_ the same thing. You lost a friend. I thoughtI lost a friend." He swallowed. "It's awful isn't it?"

Tears gathered in Sherlock's eyes. "It really is." He sank down to one knee next to John. "I'm sorry. I know I've said it before, but—"

"It's all right." John cut him off. He slid his hand down Sherlock's hand and patted it. "And Mycroft reminds you of losing your dog? When? When he wants you to do something for him?"

"Not exactly," Sherlock said. "But sort of."

John cleared his throat and set his jaw. "He's going to be stopping that."

Ella smiled. "He already has."

"Good," said John. He stood up from the chair and straightened his jacket.

Sherlock stood up as well.

Ella looked from one to the other. "Do we stop then?"


	20. Mycroft Steps In

**Mycro**ft **Steps In**

In the hall, Mycroft held his breath.

In the room, Sherlock looked at John.

"No," John said. "This has been," he paused, "enlightening. We go on."

The other two in the room and the one in the hall heaved a sigh of relief.

"Okay John, do you want to fall first instead of Sherlock?" Ella asked.

John shook his head. "I'm good. Come on, Sherlock. Let's go."

The two took their places. Sherlock closed his eyes and held out his arms. "Ready," he said and rocked backwards. A moment later he sagged in John's arms. He regained his footing and stood up.

"I have a question?" Sherlock said to Ella. "I realize we've already discovered a great deal from this, but none was what you expected, right?"

She nodded.

So what are we to learn from this? That you did intend."

"Well, the exercise has just shown that you trust John completely. You kept your eyes closed through the entire fall in spite of what just happened. You fell back immediately. John did his part and caught you. Well done, both of you."

"I already knew I trusted John," Sherlock said. "You could have just asked me."

"I didn't know you trusted me," John said.

Sherlock whirled around and stared at him.

"Not completely anyway. Not to bring up a sore subject, but you went two years not trusting me with the fact you were alive."

Sherlock opened his mouth and then closed it.

"It's okay, Sherlock. I know why you did it. I do. But sometimes a person has feelings about something and doesn't even know it. I think this's one of those things."

Sherlock looked at Ella.

"Yes," she said. "This was me doing the planning thing." Then she grinned.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Thank you for the explanation," he said and paused. "We should have had Mycroft stand back there. The result would have been vastly different."

Outside the door, Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Maybe we can do that next time," said Ella.

Mycroft reared his head back and stared at the door in disgust.

"If you want everyone standing around all day waiting for something to happen that never will, that's a great plan," Sherlock said. He stepped back to change places with John.

"Okay, John. Eyes closed, arms out, Sherlock move over just a bit, please. John, when you're ready.

John closed his eyes, held out his arms. "Ready," he said and rocked back.

The door to the office silently swung open on well oiled hinges. Mycroft Holmes stepped into the room. Sherlock and Ella both started in surprise, turning and staring his way. Sherlock took a hasty step toward him as though to cross the room and shove Mycroft back out of the office. His movement caught Ella's eye.

"No! Sherlock!" she shouted. "John!"

Unaware of Mycroft's entrance, John still recognized something had gone wrong. His eyes flew open and his arms flailed backward hoping to break his fall.

Sherlock realized instantly there was no way for him to get back into position and catch John from behind. His brain jumped ahead, calculating what it would take to catch John in any way possible, before he hit the floor. Then his body sprang into action. He spun and leaped like a cat, forward with his right, then a turn and across with his left, to straddle John's falling form. At the same time, his arms shot out and caught John under his arms from the front. John hung in Sherlock's arms, gazing up at him in shock.

For a moment the two men just stared at each other. Then Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he twisted his head to the side. his eyes never leaving John's. A half-smile grew on his lips.

"There it is again!" he said aloud. "I knew I saw that look. Dear John, how did you manage to keep all those feelings from me for all this time?"

The expression on John's face disappeared into one of confusion.

"What?" he asked.

Sherlock's smile got bigger. "Oh don't try to hide it again. I saw a bit, you know; the other day." He lowered John to the ground. "Thought I was wrong . . . then."

John gathered himself to stand up, but found Sherlock in his way. He had followed John down and now lay across him, knocking him back and moving in to capture John's lips with his own. The resulting kiss was long and passionate. Still locked in the kiss, Sherlock slid his body over and rolled his hips against John's. John broke the kiss with a gasp.

"Sherlock, Mycroft!"

"Yes, Mycroft," Sherlock said without taking his eyes off John, "do get out of here." He smiled and bent his head toward John who had raised up and was resting on his elbows.

John shrank back from him. "What are you doing? He's still here."

"I don't care," said Sherlock and raked John's lips gently with his teeth, his tongue sliding past into John's mouth.

At the door, Mycroft pocketed his phone. "Yes, I thought that would do it." He smiled at Ella, "And so much more quickly than your way."

She strolled over to him. "And if he hadn't caught him?"

Mycroft's smile widened. "I had complete faith in my little brother." He held out his arm. "Tea?" he asked.

She hesitated then took his arm. "I have to be back by one."

"Spoilsport." He opened the door for her.

"Mr. Holmes! I thought you trained your brother in your image."

"No, I said I tried to. Sex does not need to include sentiment. But it always would have for Sherlock." He glanced back at the two on the floor.

"You really know how to woo a girl," she said sarcastically.

He turned back. "I didn't say it couldn't include it." He tipped his head. "Just trying to be honest."

"Well I appreciate that," she said as they walked out of the room together. "I still think I could have brought them around if you'd let me."

"My dear Ella. That would have taken forever. Like days!"

She laughed. "True. You win. So, I need to know Mr—er Mycroft. Do you have a camera in here somewhere?"

"It'll be gone by the time you get back."

"Mycroft Holmes! I can't believe . . ."

"Yes you can Ella," they disappeared out of the door. "But I know I've been naughty. Perhaps we can discuss exactly where you'd like to hit me and with what."

Back on the floor, Sherlock and John were oblivious.

"Do you see now?" Sherlock said. "You can trust me."

"I have to say, that jump and catch was pretty spectacular." He cleared his throat. "Listen, I thought you didn't . . . that you weren't interested in . . . well to be honest with you, Sherlock, I thought you were a virgin."

"I am," Sherlock said. "First kiss. How'd I do?"

A shiver ran through John.

Sherlock felt it and grinned.

John eyed the grin. "Yes, all right, it was amazing. You don't kiss like a virgin."

"I researched. There were some pretty informative videos on Youtube."

He leaned in but John pushed him back.

"You did very well, but Sherlock, look where we are."

"What? They've gone. I owe Mycroft. For once his interference was a success."

He tried to kiss John again, but he was pushed off and John scrambled to his feet.

"Spoilsport," Sherlock said. He sprang to his feet as well. "Was this what Mary wanted us to talk about when she brought up closets?"

"Yeah." John rolled his eyes.

"So Mary knew before me." Sherlock shook his head. "I must be slipping."

John regarded him. "Sherlock, when did all these feelings happen?"

"About a week ago. Just one minute they were there. When did it happen for you?"

John looked down. "Pretty much," he said, peering up at Sherlock, "right away. It began and just kept getting stronger."

"And you managed to keep it from me. Me!"

"I knew how you felt. Or rather, how you didn't feel."

Sherlock moved up, trapping John with his arms, a hungry look John had never seen before in his eyes. John stared into them, the blue he loved almost black, now, with desire.

But Sherlock kept moving forward until he pressed John against the wall by the door, then buried his face in John's neck and worked with teeth and tongue to make John understand his feelings had changed.

John gasped, his head whirling. His knees loosened and sent him sliding down the wall to the floor, Sherlock went right along with him, kissing and sucking at his throat and neck."

"Sherlock," John said, pushing him away again. "I love you, but I'm not making love with you for the first time on the bloody floor. Especially since Mycroft apparently has a camera in this room."

Sherlock looked at him. "Is that's all? I mean, are you uncomfortable, I mean have you had any experience with . . ."

"This kind of sex?" John rolled his eyes. "No."

"Does the thought bother you?"

John looked at Sherlock in surprise. He remembered what he'd said to Ella about male on male sex. Whatever problem he'd had about it then, seemed to have disappeared.

He shook his head. Then he opened his mouth to ask Sherlock if he had any, but Sherlock silenced him with a kiss.

"I guess we'll go home, then," Sherlock said, looking fondly at him when at last they broke apart. "Who knew you were the sensible one?"

John stared at him. "Everyone, Sherlock, I am the sensible one!"

Sherlock looked surprised, "Really? Well then who knew you were the less romantic one."

John, looking astounded, said nothing.

Sherlock smiled and kissed him again.

"Right, then," John said at last, when he could talk. "Let's go home and I'll show you how romantic I can be." He hopped up and held his hand out for Sherlock who stared up at him in surprise.

"Please do," Sherlock said, taking John's hand "Post, post haste!"


End file.
